Come'in Get It!

 

 

 

McDonald's ran a promotion last week, free McBreakfast sandwiches.  I forget what they were actually called but it was just a bunch of their normal stuff wrapped in a corn like shell.  That isn’t important though, the catch here is I got this free sandwich at the ghetto McDonalds.  You don’t give out free McSandwiches at the ghetto McDonalds.  That is like the first of the month to these people.  When I got to this McDonalds there was a convergence on this place like the whole world was turned into human eating zombies and the last live human was held up inside.  People were trampling babies just to get inside, and if I recall correctly since I was slightly dazed due to being in a mosh pit of bodies swaying side to side, inching closer to the door, if I remember correctly, I saw Ronald McDonald himself smashing baby heads and braining old people just to get inside and one step closer to receiving his free McWhatEverIsLeftOverFromYesterday’sBreakfast Sandwich.  After brutally using a crippled homeless man as a battering ram, a group of three of us broke through the front door and entered inside, basking in the glorious smell of what we thought was potatoes and eggs being wrapped into a toasty breakfast wrap we got in line . . . but in the end the smell was just that homeless guy we used for the battering ram.  You see, it is hard to tell the difference between a homeless man’s wrenched stench from wandering the streets day in and day out to hopefully find a free food stamp card laying on the street and the smell of anything that comes out of McDonalds.     

 

So we are inside, waiting in line, and crowd outside has grown more angry and hungry from their attempts to enter this fine dining establishment top receive their award, when who breaks through the masses and enters inside but Ronald McDonald himself.  I’m next in line and Ron McD thinks he is jumping line. “Oh hell no” I mumble and while Ron is turning around to see who said that,  I quickly go for his knees with a round house style kick . . . blocked.  Ronny has knee pads on, he came prepared.  Ronald then detaches one of his arms and begins beating me in the face with it, I was at a lose for what was happening here.  Ronald McDonald was a robot!  So why did he need to eat?  No time for thinking, I ducked his next swing and gave a hard shoulder to the chest.  His robotic balancing mechanism could take it, he was on the ground.  What now?  “McDonald molests kids” I yell at the top of my lungs.  Oh its over for him now, there is nothing that the ghetto hates more than child molesters who try and jump in line and the mob converges on him and beats his robotic body into a million pieces.  I’m up and I get my free McShitty Sandwich.  I look at it and start to have doubts that I should eat this thing in my hand that a starving Ethiopian would have second thoughts about eating but its free, so down the hatch.

 

 “Last one, we be out” states the lady behind the counter in red who is slightly retarded, yet still functional and has teeth that have most likely been used to open steel cans of government food rations in the late 1960’s.  A rumbling occurs and I look behind me, nothing . . . nothing at all.  No one was left after the announcement from the manager.  Was all this just a figment of my imagination?  No it couldn’t be, there were still pieces of Ronny on the ground.  Now, off to work.

 

The moral of this store is, don’t molest children, especially if you are going to try and cut in line in front of me at the ghetto McDonalds.